


So Changeable

by ShezzasCompanion



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury, Reichenbach-Related
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3624288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShezzasCompanion/pseuds/ShezzasCompanion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened if the roles where changed and it was John who ended up on Bart's roof top and not Sherlock</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Changeable

It wasn’t suppose to end this way, John knew it as he stood on top of Bart’s hospital, the tips of his shoes hanging over the edge as he shuffled slightly, the phone pressed to his ear as his chest heaved. The cold laugh from behind him reminded him that he couldn’t turn back, was this what Moriarty had meant by burning the heart out of Sherlock? Maybe. Would John ever get an Answer? Most likely not. John closed his eyes as the line rang, once, twice, three times.

"John?" Sherlock’s voice echoed in his ears and he opened his eyes to see Sherlock standing there below him.

"I’m Sorry Sherlock." John stated, warm tears running down his face. He was doing this to keep Sherlock safe.

"John…"Sherlock repeated, his voice breaking at the end of his name as he took a step forward.

"NO, don’t come any closer, just stay there, please."

"John we can talk about this, please, please let me help you." There was desperation in his voice as Sherlock spoke, from behind him, John could hear Jim hum impatiently. 

"I’m sorry Sherlock…"

"John, please don’t go…" There was pleading in his voice and Sherlock took a step forward and John shook his head as the sound of a gun shot rang through the air and Sherlock fell to to the ground. John’s heart stopped as he turned to look at the man behind him. 

"I did mention that I was sooo changeable, didn’t I?" Jim smirked as he tilted his head slightly. "If you hurry Johnny boy, you just might save him."

Sherlock had no idea what had happened, one moment he was begging John to stay with him, not to leave him, he had taken a step forward towards the hospital and then a gun shot sounded through the air. Everything went silent before the feeling of something slicing through him. He looked down at his stomach as blood began to steep into his shirt, his eyes widened, his free hand  pressing against the wound, warm blood sticking to his hand and shirt.

"J-John." his friends name coming across his lips softer than he thought. He didn’t realize that he no longer hand the phone in his hand, his mind rushing to think of a way to save himself, but he was getting dizzy and the world was spinning and before he knew it the ground was rushing up to meet him. His body bounced slightly from the impact and he was staring up into the grey sky. 

No one was rushing towards him to give assistance, they were taking cover in case any more shots would be fired. His vision was growing black around the edges as he looked up, blinking more and more as the light got to bright for his eyes. 

"SHERLOCK." Someone was yelling and footsteps pounded against the pavement before a weight dropped next to him. Hands pushing is own aside, his shirt ripping as someone pulled apart the fabric. 

"Oh God." His mind finally supplied it was John, of course it was John. John would never let him down and yet he had let John down by getting shot. Sherlock gasped as John pressed on his stomach and he coughed. red splattered his lips as copper coated his tongue. The darkness in his vision had grown and he decided it would just be best to let it consume him.

John told himself he should have known something like this would happen,but he hadn’t given the consulting Criminal another glance as he sprinted towards the roof door, the man behind him calling. “I would hurry if I were you, Stomach wounds are nearly always fatal.” His feet pounded against the stairs as he took two down at a time, it was faster than an elevator but it still felt as if time was dragging by him. 

No one else was around Sherlock giving him assistance, why would they? they were afraid of being shot, but he could care less. the detectives name coming him his lips as he rushed across the asphalt to drop down next to him. The blood had soaked into his purple shirt. his hands grasping at the fabric pulling it apart.

"Oh God." He muttered before pressing onto his stomach feeling the amount of blood that had pooled into his abdomen. He looked around for someone anyone to help Get Sherlock into the hospital. He couldn’t lose him. No to Moriarty. not to his stupid game

“HELP ME!” John yelled as he looked around for the people who were slowly coming out of their hiding places. “PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME.” his chest was heaving, his eyes were burning as his heart pounded against his ribs.   
  
”Sherlock hang on, Okay? I’ll get you help, just please don’t die, don’t die.” He begged, the blood warm between his fingers seeping into the fabric of Sherlock’s shirt dying it crimson. When he looked up, it became apparent no one was going to help them, no one was going to help him save Sherlock’s life. Why? Because they were afraid of being shot, and that was something he was acclimatized to, he worked with flying bullets and shrapnel and he wasn’t afraid if Moriarty’s men shot him, though he was certain that was not in the plan. 

“I got you Sherlock.”John muttered as he moved his arms. one hand scrapping against the asphalt as he slipped it under his head while the other slipped under his knees. John maneuvered himself just so,pulling the detective close to his body as he stood. The taller man was lighter than he had anticipated, as he adjusted his grip, his eyes flicking towards the roof top to find it deserted, Thought where Moriarty had vanished to was the least of his worries as he could feel Sherlock’s labored breath as his belly filled with blood.  
  
The Army Doctor turned and began to make his way towards the hospital. he kept reassuring himself that everything was going to be alright, even if abdomen shots tended to be fatal. He didn’t want to think about having to bury Sherlock, he couldn’t stomach the thought. 

“I need a gurney!” John shouted as he entered Bart’s the nurses t the station looking up at him, eyes wide in surprise s they froze in surprise at the sight. “NOW.”that snapped them out of their stupor, seconds later there was a gurney and two nurses in front of him.   
  
“Male, mid thirties, gun shot wound to the stomach, internal bleeding. blood pressure and breaths per minute unknown.” He rambled off as the nurse closest to him nodded before they rushed Sherlock away, leaving John standing there, coated in Sherlock’s blood.

The smell of antiseptic was strong and over powering his sense of smell, everything else was quiet, nearly silent on this side of the double door and John found it nearly unbearable, he was use to being in the middle of the adrenaline and the rush, especially when it came to Sherlock, They had taken him back more than two hours before and there had been no news on his condition, and that was either good or bad, depending on how you wanted to look at it. 

His hands were still covered in blood, the crimson fluid stuck around his nails and in the creases of his skin even though he had washed them more than once, but it just seemed as if it woudn’t come off that he couldn’t get Sherlock’s blood off of his hands, thought that may have just been a reflection of himself if the detective died. 

“Doctor Watson?” John’s head snapped up at the sound of his name being called to find a man standing before him, dressed in scrubs. 

“Yes?”   
  
“Mr. Holmes is being wheeled into recovery at the moment, it was touch and go there for awhile and we were afraid he wasn’t going to make it, but he pulled through.”  

Sherlock looked nothing like the man John knew as he stepped into the recovery room. the man he knew was so full of life, energy and excitement and this Sherlock looked so close to death Moriarty nearly got what he wanted. The doctor eyed the fluids connected to the detective, saline, antibiotics, plasma, and morphine on a pump. peaking above the blankets as the top of the bandages that were holding the incision closed. the incision was no doubt rather large, and it wouldn’t have surprised John if the cut extended to just above his pelvis. 

quietly he moved into the chair that had been placed there for him, his body sinking into the hard plastic as he leaned forward to take one of the detectives hands in his thought he didn’t stir, he laid as till as he most likely did on the operating table. 

“I’m Sorry Sherlock.” He mumbled as he brought the detectives hand to his mouth, his lips pressing against the warm skin telling john that he was indeed alive. “I’m sorry… I am so sorry.. I was trying to protect you…” Tears were forming in his eyes as he closed them, his throat constricting. the one thing he had done to try and save Sherlock had nearly killed him

The steady beeping as the first thing that registered in his mind before the smell of antiseptic hit him like a train. Sherlock tried to open his eyes but they were too heavy to be moved, everything was too heavy to be moved, it was as if his body had been carved from lead. his mind was foggy and he couldn’t recall why he was where he was, nor could he remember getting there. 

there was a mild burning sensation in his left arm, one usually associated with needles and any number of substances but he hadn’t used in such a log time, had he relapsed? had he nearly over dosed? But that wouldn’t explain the sharp ache that was coming from his abdomen. 

The detective groaned as he opened his eyes the light in the room too bright for his eyes making it painful for him to keep them open. Then there was a warm pressure against his hand and Sherlock turned his head, blinking a few times.

“J-John?” his voice came out in a hoarse whisper as the doctor leaned forward, and hen he remembered, John was standing on the top of Bart’s calling to tell him good bye, but Sherlock was begging him not to, he didn’t want John to go somewhere he couldn’t follow. 

“Sherlock.” John stated as he leaned forward, looking just as well as he had when he had seen him up close last. “Oh god Sherlock, we almost lost you…”

“What happened?” he asked, moving his hand as he felt John’s grip on his hand increase as if he was afraid that saying it would make he horrific outcome that he dreaded come true.

“One of Moriarty’s men Shot you.”


End file.
